The Mistress of Windfell Manor

by Diane Allen

  ‘Well, I wish you all the best, and congratulations. Have you found somewhere to live?’ Charlotte smiled. So that’s how it was; he’d got the lass pregnant. Poor bugger, he’d all on to look after himself, let alone a baby.

  ‘Aye, Rosie’s father says we can live with them, just until the baby comes and we get set up on our own feet. It’s going to be hard, making a living for us all, but I’ll try and get somewhere of my own to rent as soon as I can. My father and mother say they’ll help out, too. Rosie’s family have a farm over near Bentham, so my family know what I’m marrying into.’

  ‘They’ve got twenty acres on the edge of Mewith Moor,’ chirped Rosie, before going quiet again.

  ‘It will be nice living there.’ Charlotte thought about the edge of Mewith Moor and how wild it was; there wouldn’t be much of a living to be made there. Archie could have done so much better for himself.

  ‘Aye, well, as long as you love one another; and a baby always brings its own love into the world.’ Lucy Cranston smiled at her nephew. She knew he had once had feelings for Charlotte, but had also known that nothing would ever come of it. She could read the disappointment and hurt on her nephew’s face. The silly lad should have kept it in his pocket and tried harder for Lottie’s hand, proving that he could have farmed Crummock well and made Wesley proud of him. But no, precious Lottie had to marry into society, which had been her destiny as soon as her father realized how clever his daughter was. At the end of the day, he’d lost sight as to who would look after the family farm.

  ‘I’m sure you will be very happy. Don’t forget to give me an invite.’ Charlotte brushed past the threesome and was relieved to reach the sanctuary of the kitchen. She could feel tears welling up in her throat. She hadn’t realized how much Archie had meant to her, and now it was too late. So much for his announcement of endearing love on the morning of her grandpapa’s death. He must have jumped into bed with that dimwit of a farm girl nearly straight away. Still, the news had made up her mind about what to do with her life. She wasn’t going to be left struggling to make a living on a godforsaken farm. She was going to live the life of a lady, accept the hand of Joseph Dawson and make her home at Windfell Manor. She was going to be a woman of substance, someone to look up to and recognize in high society.

  5

  ‘Don’t you think you’re moving a bit too quick, lad? You’ve not known our Lottie six months yet!’ Wesley Booth looked across at the swanky, headstrong mill owner. ‘Your wife’s not been dead that long, either. Are you sure you are ready to take on my lass?’ At his first meetings with the forward-thinking young man, Wesley had thought Joseph would be ideal for his daughter, but recent conversations with the locals had raised doubts.

  ‘I’ve never come across a lovelier creature. She suits me well, and it is as if I have known her all my life, Mr Booth. I can give her the lifestyle and position that any other woman would be envious of. I can assure you that Charlotte will want for nothing.’ Joseph looked at the old man who was going to be his father-in-law. He was an unhealthy specimen of a farmer, too fond of his food and drink, and his lips and cheeks were coloured purple, a sure sign that his heart was not that strong. He wouldn’t have to wait too long for the farm to fall into Charlotte’s hands.

  ‘But do you love her, lad? You can buy owt with money – anything, that is, but love, and that’s the most precious thing in a marriage.’ Wesley held onto the back of his favourite chair and looked squarely at the man who was going to take his daughter away from him.

  ‘I do indeed, sir. And of course she would be free to visit you any time she wishes.’ Joseph patted Wesley on his shoulder, assuring him that his intentions towards his daughter were honourable.

  ‘Well, you have my blessing, lad – or should I say “son”. By God, that sounds strange; I never thought I’d have a son. What’s mine is yours, lad, as long as you do right by my lass.’

  Wesley wiped his nose and looked at the darkhaired man in the high collar with a diamond stud in it. Well, he’d got what he’d always wished for: a man with brass for his Lottie; but was Joseph a good man? Only time would tell him that.

  ‘You can come in now; I know you are hiding behind that door.’ Wesley knew Charlotte had been trying to listen to every word, through the thick oak door that separated the parlour from the passageway. ‘Aye, he’s all yours. I’ve given you my blessing, and now we’ve to talk about a dowry and set a date. You’ll both have to go and see the vicar, get a date set, and we’ll take it from there.’ Wesley’s breath was nearly knocked out of him as Lottie hugged him tightly and kissed him all over his cheeks.

  ‘I love you so much, Father. Thank you for giving us your blessing. I love Joseph, really I do, and we will be happy until the day we die.’ Charlotte reached for Joseph’s hand and hugged both her men.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Booth. And please, I don’t expect a dowry; your daughter’s hand is enough for me. And when it comes to the wedding, I prefer to keep it quiet. I’ve not much family, and what I have are all down in Lancashire. Do you agree, Charlotte: just a quiet marriage?’ Joseph squeezed her hand and looked at his new fiancée.

  ‘I don’t mind if it’s just us three there, as long as I’ve got you. But I must have a dress; all covered with Nottingham lace, with gloves and veil to match. ‘Oh, and a cake. Mrs Cranston will have to make a cake.’ Charlotte was excited about her wedding day and her mind was racing.

  ‘Perhaps you should leave the cake in my hands, my dear. My new cook comes highly recommended from her last employment with the Sidgwicks at Skipton. And, as you know, I now have several members of house-staff who can easily manage to host a wedding breakfast at Windfell.’ Joseph was determined that the wedding would be planned by him, not by the cook and Lottie’s parlour maid at Crummock. ‘Would you like Mrs Dodgson to accompany you to choose your wedding dress? I’m sure she would enjoy every minute.’ Even though the offer of his housekeeper’s help with the dress choice must have sounded ridiculous, he wanted to make sure he was marrying his bride in something respectable.

  ‘Oh, Joseph, Mrs Cranston will be so disappointed if she can’t make the cake. She’s a superb cook and, to be honest, I think I might like her to come with me to choose the material for a dress. She’s the nearest thing to a mother I’ve got.’ Charlotte was shocked that control of her wedding was slipping out of her hands already.

  ‘Charlotte, you are going to have to realize that marriage to me will come with expectations – and saying that the family cook is a substitute mother to you is not recommended.’ Joseph showed his disgust at the lack of distance between the classes.

  ‘Now then, lad. Lucy Cranston means everything to my lass and me. She’s been there through rough and smooth and, like Lottie says, she has been good to her. Now, let your fancy cook make the cake; but if the lass wants Lucy with her when she looks for a dress, you let her – and let that be an end to it. Else you can think again about marrying my lass.’ Wesley looked at his future son-in-law. Life was not going to be a bed of roses for his lass from now on. She might have standing in the community, but that would be about it, if Joseph Dawson had his way.

  ‘I’m sorry. I just wanted it to be right and, to my eyes, a cook helping choose my bride’s wedding dress doesn’t sit well in polite society.’ Joseph knew he’d gone too far.

  ‘No, and neither does a housekeeper’s help. Your Mrs Dodgson doesn’t know the first thing about my lass! Don’t you fret, Lottie’s got a good eye, and I’ll take her over to Harrogate and get her fitted out properly, with Mrs Cranston’s help.’ Wesley stood his ground. ‘Aye, and I’ve a few friends and relations that I might like to invite. Never mind a small wedding; this is my only daughter’s wedding and it’s a thing to celebrate, I hope! If brass is an issue, which I’m sure it isn’t, you’ve just to say. I’ll pay for the do – after all, it’s a father’s privilege.’ Wesley didn’t like being dictated to.

  ‘Excuse me, it is my wedding.’ Charlotte stood with her hands on her h
ips and glared at the men in her life. ‘My wedding breakfast will be at Windfell, and Mrs Cranston will come with me to Harrogate to choose my wedding attire. Both of us will put a list of guests together and see how many we come up with. And then, dear Father and Joseph, you can come to an arrangement about payment. However, before all that, we had better see Reverend Richardson to find out if he is willing to marry us at Austwick church, and check which dates are available.’ Charlotte nearly stamped her foot in temper. This should have been one of the most enjoyable days of her life, and instead she was being torn apart.

  ‘Aye, lass, that’s alright by me.’ Wesley turned and looked out of his parlour window, hiding from his daughter his growing doubts about Joseph.

  ‘If that’s what you wish, Charlotte, then we will go and see the vicar. And if you want to put a guest list together, I will be happy to accommodate it. Paying for it is not a problem. I just hoped for a quiet affair.’ Joseph put his arm around Charlotte’s waist and then released her, as she pulled away and stood between him and her father.

  ‘How about an October wedding? The twenty-seventh: it would have been my late mother’s birthday? If the vicar can undertake it then.’ Charlotte looked at her sulking men. ‘We will have known each other exactly six months then, Joseph.’ She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Your mother would have liked that. The twenty-seventh is grand with me.’ Wesley smiled at his daughter. If Joseph thought he was going to bully his daughter, he’d soon learn different.

  ‘That’s fine, my dear: the twenty-seventh of October it is, if the vicar can comply.’ Joseph smiled. The sooner he could get her away and under his roof, the better. She’d soon realize that his way was all or nothing.

  ‘Breathe in.’ Lucy Cranston yanked hard on the cream laces that bound Charlotte’s bodice.

  ‘I can’t breathe – how much tighter are you going to pull? I feel like a trussed chicken ready for the pot.’ Charlotte could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, as the old cook pulled and tugged her waist even tighter.

  ‘Sorry, Miss Charlotte, but we’ve got to tame that waist and bosom of yours, so that man can’t take his eyes off you as you walk down the aisle.’ She finally finished and tied the laces in a delicate bow, before standing back and admiring her mistress in her bloomers and bodice. Charlotte’s waist was about the size of one of her thighs, thought Lucy, as she caught her breath before adding the next layer of clothing.

  ‘Phew, I don’t know if I can stand all day in this. I can hardly breathe.’ Charlotte bent over and tried to get her breath as she looked at herself in the mirror.

  ‘It’ll get slacker, the longer you wear it. Besides, you’ll forget all about it being on, once you are walking down that aisle and you see dashing Mr Dawson waiting for you. Come on, arms up: underskirts next, and then your dress.’

  Lucy slipped the full cotton underskirt over Charlotte’s head and then reached for the cream Nottingham-lace dress that had been hanging up behind her bedroom door. They had seen a copy of it in one of the flash dress-shop windows in Harrogate and had known straight away that it was the dress for Charlotte, who had stood patiently while the dressmaker painstakingly measured and pinned her, before hand-making the perfect wedding dress for her big day. The lace was so delicate, embroidered slightly with rosebuds and falling leaves, with a high enough neckline to be a little revealing, but not too brash. Lucy buttoned up the back while looking over Charlotte’s shoulder, as she looked at herself in the long mirror in her bedroom.

  ‘You look beautiful, Miss Charlotte – or you will, when we get that hair out of those rags. I’ll give Mary a yell; she’s better at doing your hair than I am. Besides, I want to make sure your father is dressed and isn’t letting the side down, before I put on my hat and your veil. Mary!’ Lucy stood at the bedroom door and looked round at Charlotte. ‘Your mother would be proud of you. You are so bonny and are doing so well for yourself. If you always act like a lady and treat folk right, you’ll not go far wrong, Miss Charlotte.’ Lucy could feel her eyes filling up with tears, for she loved the lass. ‘Mary . . . where are you?’

  ‘I’m coming, I’m coming. I’ve just been putting some flowers in the horse’s mane, while talking to the lad from the smithy. He says there’s crowds of locals already waiting for you, Miss Charlotte, and the local children are to tie the church gates to get your guests to throw their coppers, so that they’ll untie the gates and let you get out. I might join in with them. There should be some brass thrown, if your fella’s got as much as he says.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing, Mary. You’ll stand with me at the back of the church and be a lady. You are no longer a child, and you are part of this household and, as such, should be respectable. Now get on and take Miss Charlotte’s rags out of her hair. We’ll then leave, before her and her father go down to the church with Sam in his buggy.’ Lucy was feeling the pressure of the day; she might not have been Wesley’s wife or Charlotte’s mother, but she had been expected to fulfil both roles on Charlotte’s special day.

  Mary sighed, lifted the hair brush up from Charlotte’s dressing table and watched as her mistress sat in front of her in her beautiful dress. ‘You do look pretty, Miss. I wish I could have a dress like that when I get married.’ She carefully untied the first knot that held the long strip of cotton rag with Charlotte’s blonde hair twisted around it. They had washed and then parted and twisted her hair around a number of rags the previous evening, in order to make it fall into ringlets for her big day. Mary pulled gently and the thick hair fell perfectly down into a tight curl. ‘Well, that one looks alright, Miss. I’ll take them all out and then just tease them out with the brush, to make them look thicker. I bet you’ll be glad to get them all out – I know they aren’t that comfortable.’ She continued to pull the next ringlet out.

  ‘It’s this one here; it’s driven me mad all night. It must have some hair more tightly bound than all the rest, because it’s pulled on my head all night.’ Charlotte put her hand on her head and tugged on the cloth-bound tress.

  ‘I’ll take it out now. You are looking lovely already, Miss Charlotte. Mr Dawson doesn’t know how lucky he is.’

  Charlotte patted Mary’s hand. ‘What am I going to do, without you and Mrs Cranston? You are both like family to me.’ She looked in the mirror at the reflection of herself and the young parlour maid. How she was going to miss home!

  ‘You’ll be fine, Miss. You’ll have more servants and be more pampered than you’ll know what to do with; and me and Mrs Cranston will look after your father, so you don’t have to worry about him.’ Mary teased out each ringlet and then stood back and admired her handiwork. ‘You look perfect, Miss, and your veil will sit splendidly on your long locks. What do you think?’

  Charlotte looked at herself in the mirror. It didn’t seem to be her reflection looking back at her. She saw a nervous bride-to-be, filled with doubt and concern. She could have cried; she didn’t want to leave her home, and her life was going to change beyond belief. For the better, she hoped, but could she be sure – and would she be happy? She didn’t need a lady’s maid and a housekeeper, along with numerous other servants at her beck and call. She just needed Joseph, and a friend in her new home. And she couldn’t see Mrs Dodgson, his housekeeper, ever becoming as close to her as Lucy, or even as Mary.

  ‘There, your father’s looking like a real dandy. I’m all ready, and Mary looks like she’s worked her magic on you. Now let’s put this veil on, and then that’s mine and Mary’s job done and we’ll be off.’ Lucy Cranston shuffled back into the room, the feather in her hat announcing her arrival before her. ‘There, you are complete.’ She pinned the small pearled comb with the delicate veil into Charlotte’s hair and stood back. ‘A bonnier bride I’ve never seen. What your father will say, I don’t know.’

  Lucy sniffled a sob, while Mary gasped as Charlotte stood up.

  ‘I think it should be “Lady Charlotte” from now on, you look so bonny. Come on, Mary, let’s u
s away. Mr Booth is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. We need to get our seat at the church before they arrive.’ Lucy stopped in her tracks as she left her mistress. ‘Good luck, Miss Charlotte, may God bless you. I’m always here for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Cranston. That means a lot to me, and I’m not that far away, so you must come and have tea with me.’ Charlotte walked over and gave her faithful cook a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘I don’t think Mr Dawson will be happy with that. A cook having tea with the lady of the manor. Nay, lass, you’ll have to learn your position in life from now on.’ Lucy’s hand lingered on the door knob. ‘Charlotte, you do love Joseph Dawson, don’t you? You’re not just marrying him because of his position and his money? It isn’t those aspects that are ruling your head?’ She knew she was talking out of place, but she was concerned for the girl’s happiness, and that of her father.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Cranston, bless you. I love Joseph with every inch of my heart. I love his dark hair, his blue eyes, the way he dresses – the very smell of him. He cares for me, and loves me as I love him. How can you ever question our love for one another?’ Charlotte was shocked. Joseph was the perfect gentleman, who loved her and had promised her the earth. They would live happily until the end of time, as far as she was concerned.

  ‘Aye, lass, I just thought happen he’d turned your head, and I hoped you’d not live to regret this day. Marry in haste and repent in leisure, as the saying goes. Your father would be broken-hearted if Joseph wasn’t the right man for you.’ Lucy looked at the blushing bride and watched a shadow cross her brow.

  ‘I love him, Mrs Cranston. He is a man of honour, who will love and cherish me. My father would not have brought him to the house if it had been any other way. Besides, over the last six months we have grown stronger in our love every day. Please be happy for us – it is our special day.’ Charlotte squeezed Lucy’s hand tightly. ‘I love him, truly I do, and he’s a good man.’